You Belong To Me
by CTMfan-13
Summary: Shelagh adjusts to motherhood. (Sorry, I'm terrible at summaries)
You Belong to Me

Angela Turner had been more restless than usual lately, a side effect of teething, no doubt.

Every morning after Patrick left for the surgery and Timothy was off to school, Shelagh felt as though she was dealing with a ticking bomb.

Some days were fine, she thought. Angela would amuse herself in her playpen, gnawing on the teddy bear Timothy had given her, while Shelagh would putter around the house cleaning and getting the family dinner ready. Other days, however, she felt as though she was hanging on by a thread. Nothing she did would seem to placate her daughter's cries. Today, it seemed, was going to be one of those days. It had started just after lunch, normally when Angela would go down for a nap so that Shelagh could accomplish other tasks.

Holding her daughter close to her chest, she had paced around the flat for over an hour to no avail, until finally turning on the record player and singing along to whatever record her husband had listened to last.

 _"Fly the ocean in a silver plane_

 _See the jungle when it's wet with rain_

 _Just remember till you're home again_

 _You belong to me"_

Swaying back and forth as she sang, Shelagh felt her daughter's body get heavier and go limp as she finally succumbed to sleep.

' _Finally_ ' she thought to herself.

Kissing her temple lightly and placing her daughter into her cot, Shelagh smiled as she listened to the soft snores emanating from Angela. The light snuffles she let out were like music to Shelagh's ears, especially after an afternoon full of tears.

"Shelagh! I'm back!" Patrick called as he let the door slam loudly behind him. "Surgery ended early so I thought I'd surprise the Turner ladies!"

Coming out of their bedroom, she ran down the hallway at speed to stop her husband from making any more of a racket and waking up the baby.

"There's my girl!" He boomed, arms open to greet her.

"Shhh! Please. Angela's asleep, and I don't want you to wake her!" She whispered harshly.

"Why is she sleeping? It's nearly four o'clock, nap time should have been ages ago."

Trying to bite back the anger swelling within her, she took a deep breath and forced a smile.

"Yes dear, I know. However your daughter decided that today was the day she wanted to test the limits of her Mummy's patience, so here we are. I've only just gotten her to sleep five minutes ago, and I've got so much left to do before Timothy has to go to Cubs. I haven't even gotten around to planning dinner, and the washing still has to be done, and I need to sterilize Angela's bottles because we've only got two left." She finished her list with a sigh and moved towards the kitchen.

Patrick watched her as she began to tidy up the countertop and ran some hot water into the sink to begin the pile of dishes left from breakfast. She looked exhausted, and no wonder he thought to himself. Since they'd brought Angela home, almost all of her care had fallen to Shelagh. Partly due to his work schedule and call-outs, but also due to the fact that Shelagh couldn't bear to be separated from their miracle daughter. Watching her now, trying to stifle a yawn and failing miserably, he could see that she was tearing herself down and he made a decision not to let her.

He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, moving to join her in the kitchen.

"Right then, how can I help?"

She stared at him as though he had three heads before smiling. "Oh, Patrick. You don't have to do anything. Go and sit down, you've had a busy day. I can handle this."

He shook his head. "No, you've been handling everything in this house without help for far too long. Now, I'm not going to offer to make dinner because we both know that wouldn't be helpful." He winked at her as she smiled. "But, I can go pick up some takeaway from the shop. Or I can call up Mrs. B and see if she's got anything left over at Nonnatus."

The look on her face told him that was the wrong answer. "Or not."

"No, Patrick. Really, I can manage. Things have just gotten away from me today, that's all. If I can just get these dishes finished quickly, I can get dinner sorted before starting the wash and I'll do Angela's bottles last. There's no need to bother the Sisters."

"Shelagh, sweetheart. You don't have to manage...there's nothing wrong with asking for help."

"I don't need help!" She shocked herself at her tone. "I just...need more hours in a day. Or a daughter who is willing to nap." She tried to smile at him, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"You're a new mother, Shelagh...you and I both know it takes babies time to get into a routine. This won't last forever, I promise you." He took a step closer to her and wrapped her in a hug, kissing her head as she rested it on his chest.

Their small moment of peace was over before it began, the slamming of the front door setting off the infant down the hall and the frantic apologies of the almost-teenage boy drowning out the whimper that came from Shelagh.

"I'll get her. Go and sit down, love."

"No, really dearest. I can-" Patrick cut her off.

"You take care of all of us, Shelagh...let me care of you now." She started to walk out of the kitchen to the sitting room, noticing that Patrick was scolding Tim in the doorway while Angela continued to cry. Stealthily walking around them, she continued on to their bedroom, picking up the infant and rocking her to try and calm her tears.

Angela, however, was having none of it.

Leaning her head onto her mother's shoulder, her cries became even louder in pitch, something Shelagh didn't think was possible after that afternoon.

"Hush, angel. It's alright. Mummy's here." Shelagh tried to soothe her, the Scottish lilt in her voice starting to crack as her emotions started to get the better of her. This was how Patrick Turner found his wife, her eyes glistening with tears and their six month old on the verge of a breakdown.

"Here, let me try." He reached out to Shelagh, taking their daughter deftly into his arms and placing her head on his shoulder.

"Come to Daddy, my angel. Shhhh...it's alright."

Angela, whose eyes had been closed due to the overwhelming amount of tears, registered the change immediately and paused in her screaming. Snuffling once more, she nestled her head into her father's neck, letting out a soft sigh as she started to fall asleep again.

Shelagh was speechless. Thankful that their daughter was no longer in distress, but also a tinge jealous that Patrick was the one who'd been able to soothe her.

The next night, after Tim had gone to bed and Patrick finished settling Angela in her cot after another crying episode , he sat his exhausted wife on the sofa and gathered her into his arms, smiling as she immediately curled into his embrace.

"Thank you, Patrick. For settling her. I'm afraid we had another rough day."

"Don't thank me, Shelagh. I'm her parent too, I'm sure it was just dumb luck I got her to calm back down." He laughed as he kissed her head.

After several days, where Angela would only be pacified in the presence of her husband, Shelagh was beginning to think it was something other than just luck.

"Maybe it's my voice? Or the smell of my cologne?"

Shelagh shrugged at her husband, turning away to go into the kitchen as he soothed their six month old daughter in the sitting room, her cries beginning to lessen almost as soon as she saw him walk through the door.

"I'm sure you're right, Patrick." She responded, placing the dishes on the hatch and beginning to set the table.

Patrick was not to be fooled, he knew when his wife had something on her mind. Placing his now-babbling daughter into her playpen, he moved to the kitchen and leaned on the table watching his wife.

"Shelagh. Talk to me, please."

"About what?"

"About whatever you're thinking." She opened her mouth to respond, still not meeting his eyes. "And if you're not going to tell me the truth, please don't lie to me and say it's nothing."

She let out a sigh. Not able to hide anything from her husband, she looked up at him quickly before averting her gaze. "It's silly. I don't want to tell you."

"Shelagh..."

"No, you'll think I'm being ridiculous."

"I could never think that. Whatever it is, it's obviously bothering you, so tell me."

"You're her favorite." Her voice was so low, if he hadn't seen her lips move he would have never known she'd spoken.

"Shelagh, that's absurd!"

"See? That's why I didn't want to tell you!"

"I'm sorry. You're right." Shelagh turned quickly, glaring at him with a shocked expression. "No! I mean...not that." He stood quickly, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her. "Shelagh, our daughter is teething and grumpy, that's all. She does not prefer me over you. She's only six months old, she doesn't know how to have a favorite yet." Kissing her on the cheek, he didn't notice the crease in her forehead, or the hurt look in her eyes.

Hours later, as she lay in bed with her husband's arm wrapped around her waist, she heard her daughter start to whimper from her cot.

"Patrick?" She turned as much as she could, trapped as she was under his arm.

"Hmm?" He tightened his hold on her, slowly waking and pulling his wife closer to him. By this time, she could hear Angela's whining becoming louder.

"Patrick? Can you settle Angela before she wakes up Tim?"

"Are you feeling alright, Shelagh?" He asked as he started to get up, placing his hand on her forehead the way he'd done that day in the mist.

"I'm fine, dearest. Just tired. Can you get her, please?"

"Are you sure you're alright, love?"

"Yes. It's you she wants, not me. Please, before she wakes Timothy."

Patrick was up within a moment, his years of reacting to the telephone in the middle of the night had trained him well for life with an infant. Angela stopped crying as soon as she saw her father, lifting her arms and leaning on his shoulder as he rubbed circles on her back and lulled her into sleep once more.

Climbing back into bed, he noticed his wife had fallen asleep facing away from him. He daren't touch her for fear he would wake her, so he lay on his back and sent up a prayer that this phase would pass quickly.

Breakfast time in the Turner house was usually a hectic affair on any given day. The next morning was no exception, save the added trauma of Angela's cries echoing through the flat. Patrick noticed that her troublesome tooth was just about to break through her gums, which was the obvious cause of her distress.

Shelagh busied herself with making breakfast for her family while simultaneously quizzing her son on his homework, while he paced the sitting room with Angela.

Their daughter continued crying, babbling incoherently into his shoulder, as Shelagh called to him through the hatch.

"Come eat your breakfast, Patrick. I'll get Angela's pacifier, see if that will help." He was walking to the table when it happened.

"Mama!"

The three of them froze, uncertain if they had indeed heard correctly.

"Did she just say-" Timothy spoke before being cut off by the repeated cry.

"Mama!" Angela hiccuped through her tears again, arms reaching away from her father towards Shelagh. "Mama!"

"I'm here, Angel." Shelagh put down the plate she was carrying and stepped up to her husband, taking their daughter into her arms. "Mama's right here. It's alright."

Patrick smiled as he watched his wife cuddle their daughter, drying her tears with the sleeve of her dressing gown.

"Well then...there goes my hopes for her first word being 'Dada'." He said dryly, his smile cancelling out any doubt of the fact that he was teasing. His wife didn't react, her full attention focused on Angela who was clutching at the lapel of Shelagh's robe.

"Did you say something, dearest?" Shelagh asked, noticing the silence in the room.

Patrick smiled at her, all the worries of the past week having vanished in an instant.

"Nope. Not a thing." He replied as he watched mother and daughter sway around the kitchen, sending up a silent thank you for a prayer answered.


End file.
